


Aſſorted Obſervations on the Courtſhip Methods & Habits of the Common Inveterate Lout

by renquise



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renquise/pseuds/renquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William had difficulties ascertaining exactly how he had ended up in a surprisingly spacious bed with Haytham’s arm around his waist, Charles’s moustache tickling his chest, and Thomas waving cheerfully at him over Charles’s shoulder, but the latter almost certainly had something to do with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aſſorted Obſervations on the Courtſhip Methods & Habits of the Common Inveterate Lout

Being associates with Thomas led one to ask questions that weren’t in the usual repertoire of pleasantries. Usually, people walked into a tavern and inquired after the weather and the (inevitably abysmal) combination of sausage and mash available at the moment and thereafter meandered on to marginally more useful topics, such as the best way to get thoroughly drunk. Thomas’s company brought a refreshing immediacy and variety to the concerns articulated, among them:

\- Why are there twenty chickens in our rooms.

(Not enough space for twenty-four.)

\- Where have our beds gone and why is there a battered sofa with tassels and an assortment of dresses in their place.

(A business opportunity.)

\- To whom does this limb belong to and will they be wanting it back.

(Didn’t have a name on it, and probably not.)

Naturally, these questions were largely rhetorical, as tracing back the line of reasoning that led to chickens usually got mired in increasingly creative leaps of—‘logic’ was too generous a word, though ‘drunken whim’ accorded too strong a degree of randomness to these actions, failing to encapsulate the particular animal cunning that always seemed to engineer a creative application of whatever farm animal or unusual object had found its way into Templar possession. No, there was usually a reason for the chickens, however circuitous.

Which was all to say that William had difficulties ascertaining exactly how he had ended up in a surprisingly spacious bed with Haytham’s arm around his waist, Charles’s moustache tickling his chest, and Thomas waving cheerfully at him over Charles’s shoulder, but the latter almost certainly had something to do with it. 

William was reasonably sure no farmyard animals had been involved, thankfully.

William carefully disentangled himself from Haytham’s arm and took stock of his surroundings. A glance around the room managed to pinpoint exactly two items of his clothing among the scattered items, one of which was a stocking draped over the edge of the mattress. William sank back into the blankets and decided that laying in bed a little longer was a perfectly viable option. 

A grunt to his side warned him that Thomas was attempting to clamber over Charles, taking care to place a knee in Charles’s gut on the way by. (Charles made an abortive attempt at pushing Thomas out of bed before realizing that Haytham was still asleep, and deciding that a healthy amount of glaring would do. Charles was not particularly amenable to mornings.) Once this accomplished, Thomas settled in William’s lap. 

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

“Good morning,” William said, resting his hands on Thomas’s thighs. “I would ask how you are, but it seems like an extraneous pleasantry right now.”

“Pretty bloody sore, thanks for asking,” Thomas said, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his joints. He still had his hat on, somehow. In fact, William was fairly sure that he had had his hat on the entire time, except when it had made a brief excursion to Charles’s head while Thomas was riding him senseless. 

“I’m not surprised,” William said, and muffled a yawn into his shoulder. 

“Couldn’t resist getting a piece of this, could you, Mr. Johnson?” Thomas said, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that managed to convey a thoroughly obscene abstract of the various goings-on of the night previous.

“Truly, you are an irresistible force of seduction,” Charles grumbled, turning over to bury his head into a pillow, possibly in an attempt to smother himself.

“Oi, if you’re done cataloguing, naming, and composing odes to every one of Haytham’s chest hairs, I’ve got a cock needs sucking over here,” Thomas said, poking at Charles’s thigh with his toe. 

“Suck it yourself,” Charles muttered into the pillows. 

“Tried,” Thomas said mournfully, looking down at his cock as though it had personally betrayed him. “Wrenched me back doing it, too. Mr. Kenway, sir, you wouldn’t want a valuable member of your team getting unnecessarily injured, would you?”

(Haytham did not respond, being resolutely asleep. William thought this was a very wise course of action.) 

“Let the poor man have a rest, Thomas,” William said.

“Well then, you’d best keep me busy, shouldn’t you?” Thomas said with a smirk, wriggling in William’s lap in a way that should have been ridiculous—and was ridiculous, because coy flirtatiousness suited Thomas about as well as lace and ribbons. (Which, William considered, was perhaps to say that the sheer contrast was surprisingly compelling.)

“That was a euphe-whatsit, in case you were wondering. What I’m saying is that you should put your hand on my cock and your cock in my ass,” Thomas said, apparently intent on annihilating any vestige of subtlety from the exchange.

“Thank you for the much-needed clarification.”

“Anytime.”

William settled his hands on Thomas’s waist, his thumb tracing along the line of his hip. “ Well. Here’s what I suggest. Charles is going to fuck you—”

“Y’hear that, Charlie-boy?” Thomas said, poking Charles in the back none too gently. 

“Ungh,” Charles said. 

“Just making sure you’re up to date on the plan of attack. You better hold up the end of the bargain too and fuck me good and proper—I could hardly feel it last night.” 

Charles kicked Thomas under the covers, but also looked far less grumpy about the prospect of facing the morning.

“—And I believe you should give Mr. Kenway up a pleasant wake-up call, as well. And if you’re good, well, then I’ll apply my mouth as necessary. Clear? ” 

William moved his hand back to curve around Thomas’s ass. Thomas took his fingers easily, still slick from not so very long ago, and shifted his hips back, urging him on shamelessly.

“Clear as crystal,” Thomas said, his voice gone low and rough. He smirked. “Sir.” The man had a talent—well, he had a talent for many things, mostly things that resulted in arrest—but especially for making the word ‘sir’ sound as insubordinate as possible. 

It was an indulgence, perhaps, to push his fingers into Thomas a few more times, Thomas’s hips rolling back into their easy slide, before Charles moved up behind Thomas.

“Oh, interested now, are we?” Thomas said, grinding back against Charles, who replaced William’s fingers with his own slick ones.

“You make yourself difficult to ignore, Hickey,” Charles said with a growl, his hand firm on Thomas’s hip.

William, for his part, disentangled himself from the fray and sat up to place his hands on Haytham’s shoulders, who shifted beneath his touch, his breathing still deep and sleep-steady despite all the movement around him. Charles pushed Thomas forward, prompting a laugh and a hissed breath at the change in pressure from Charles’s fingers, his head hanging down between his braced arms for a moment before he took Haytham into his mouth.

Thomas sucked cock like he did most other things: unabashedly, messily, and with no regard for what was right and proper. If any of them were under the illusion that having his mouth full would stem the commentary about Charles’s sexual prowess—well. Thomas moaned like a whore around Haytham’s cock when Charles filled him, the sheer exaggeration of it half-mocking. 

Haytham blinked awake in a moment, jerking against William’s hands, his body tense and ready. Thomas’s head dipped, however, and Haytham’s head fell back with a long shiver. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kenway,” William said mildly.

“Mr. Johnson,” Haytham said, his sleep-roughened voice remarkably level, with only the slightest tremor upsetting its course. 

It had been a thrill, the night before, to pin Haytham’s broad shoulders to the mattress and feel him shudder and arch into the touch. William had long resigned himself to having a scholar’s build, whereas Haytham had the leashed power and the scars of one well-accustomed to a blade—yet Haytham had not broken his hold, smiling ruefully up at him and saying, “Carry on, Mr. Johnson,” his voice thick with arousal.

There had been something strange, perhaps, in seeing Charles hang back, so evident in his desire to touch and so reticent despite it. It had taken some urging for Charles to understand what Haytham wanted, his touches tentative and too-worshipful, until Haytham impatiently snapped, “For God’s sake, Charles, I won’t break.” 

(Thomas, for his part, had taken his mouth off William’s cock long enough to say, “Bloody fuck, Charlie, man up and bugger him properly, like I do with your ma.” Uncouth, but practical, like most of Thomas’s strategies.)

William bent to kiss Haytham, catching Haytham’s quiet gasps inside his mouth and feeling the stutter of his breath when Thomas evidently swallowed him deep, enjoying the way that Haytham’s arms flexed against his grasp , his fingers curled. He knew what it must feel like—the wet, hot clutch of Thomas’s mouth and the wicked curl of his tongue—and smiled against Haytham’s mouth in understanding.

When he broke the slick contact with Haytham’s mouth, William found Thomas looking up at him, something hot and focused in his gaze, even as he shoved his hands under Haytham and made him fuck his mouth more roughly. William found himself caught for a moment, before Charles thrust into Thomas hard, as if to remind him that he was very much present. 

Thomas broke his gaze, pulling off Haytham and catching his breath enough to toss his head over his shoulder and say, “Ooh, Mr. Lee, fuck me harder.” 

The breathy, mocking timbre of his voice broke, and his mouth opened—wordlessly, this time—when Charles gripped his hips harder and thrust into him in earnest. 

“Don’t forget about Mr. Kenway, Thomas,” William reminded him.

Thomas laughed breathlessly. “Right you are, sir.” He bent his head to the task once more with an ease that seemed to say that he wanted nothing more than a cock to fill his throat, and that they were merely here to oblige him.

Charles’s eyes fixed on Haytham as he pushed himself into Thomas’s mouth. William heard him hiss a breath through his teeth when a thrust echoed through Thomas and wrenched a groan out of Haytham, the proud line of his back arching, and when Haytham came, every muscle of his body pulled tight, hair clinging to his sweat-damp forehead, Charles watched him like the light of a revelation and spilled into Thomas’s body helplessly. 

“Bloody hell, Hickey, you wouldn’t have been gainfully employed in this task at some point?” Haytham said, once he had found his breath again.

“I am a man of many talents,” Thomas said, almost modestly, earning a snort from Charles. His voice was ragged and hoarse, and William could not help the shiver that coursed up his back at its sound, at the way that Thomas raised a hand to his throat to rub at it.

Thomas collapsed on the mattress when Charles pulled out, his hips hitching against the sheets for a moment before he gathered himself and crawled over to drape himself over William.

“So. Have I been ‘good’?” Thomas said, licking his lips clean and rocking up against William’s leg, the line of his cock hot and wanting.

“I don’t think I would ever call you ‘good’,” William said in a considering tone.

Thomas rolled his eyes, a thread of desperation in his voice. “Close enough? Throw me a bone, here.”

Somewhere beside him, Charles groaned. “William, kindly shut him up so that we won’t be subjected to more brilliant innuendo.”

Thomas bit his lip when William curled his hand around his cock. He squirmed against William, the lines of his muscles wound tight and his hands clutching at William’s shoulders. “It’ll do,” William said, finally, his mouth to Thomas’s ear.

Thomas groaned when William let go of his cock, no doubt about to complain, but snapped his mouth shut and let himself be rolled over as William slid down the bed, taking hold of his hips. 

William slicked his fingers and pushed them carefully into Thomas’s body as he bent his head to Thomas’s cock. For all of Thomas’s enthusiasm, he had to be sore, by now, having taken them all before and now again, and William fucked him slowly, steadily.

“Harder, come on,” Thomas whimpered, hitching his hips up, his fingers curling and uncurling in the sheets.

William pulled back off slowly, but continued to press his fingers into him deliberately, unrelenting. “My way, or not at all, Thomas.”

Thomas shivered under him, his elbows giving way as he sank down to the mattress. “Christ, you’re bossy as hell. Fuck.”

William took that as acquiescence, and took Thomas into his mouth once more, enjoying the solid, hot weight on his tongue, conscious that his every move seemed to reverberate through Thomas, his body arching off the mattress and his thighs pressing against William’s shoulders helplessly. 

And that was a sight, wasn’t it? Thomas with his tongue lost to moans, utterly shameless and selfish in his pleasure, unabashedly hedonistic.

“My god, you’re loud,” he heard Charles grouse, muffling Thomas with a hard kiss, his hand fisted in Thomas’s hair. Thomas jerked into William’s mouth when Charles twisted one of his nipples between his fingers, earning him a gasped “Fuck, Charlie, you know how to treat a girl.”

“Oughtn’t someone take care of you, William?” Haytham breathed into his ear, his hand pressing against William’s belly and then curling around his cock, the firm line of his body against William familiar and welcome.

“My thanks,” William said, pulling away to press his mouth to Haytham’s in a brief, grateful kiss and rolling his hips into Haytham’s grasp. He gave Thomas more, another finger, until Thomas was stretched tight around his knuckles, fever-hot and asking for still more with every shuddering breath.

It didn’t take long for Thomas to come, his body seizing in a tense line, and if he said anything, it was lost in Charles’s mouth. William fucked him through it, pressing his fingers deep until Thomas squirmed away from his touch, oversensitive in every way. William pressed his forehead to Thomas’s belly, feeling its rise and fall as Thomas fought to find his breath once again, and joined his hand with Haytham’s to pull at his cock. 

Thomas gathered himself enough to surge down and pull his head up and kiss him, his tongue sloppy in William’s mouth and utterly imperfect, and that, that was far more than enough for William. He came with Thomas’s lips pulling into a smirk against his mouth, no doubt something impertinent on his tongue, so close that he could almost taste its bite.

For a moment, things were still, the room hot and close.

Thomas flopped back onto the mattress, the lazy angles of his body even more haphazard than usual. “Well, I think I’ve pulled something,” he said appreciatively, “Bloody fuck, I’m hungry. I could eat an entire pig. Two. You should get me two pigs to eat in bed.”

“You have a way with words like no other,” William said, failing to resist the urge to kiss the immensely self-satisfied smirk off Thomas’s lips.

“I’m a poet. Like Charlie here! Master Kenway, allow me to regale you with—“

Haytham looked over curiously as Charles attempted to throttle Thomas before he could break into a rendition of a sonnet featuring slightly florid, but very earnest metaphors concerning Haytham’s eyelashes (newly-set to a catchy shanty tune). Said attempt resulted in Thomas falling off the bed, much to Charles’s satisfaction. 

Thomas climbed gingerly back under the sheets to drape himself over as much of William as possible, perhaps aiming for obnoxious and hitting ‘strangely cuddly’ instead. William took Thomas’s wrist, his fingers overlapping the bloom of bruising already ringing Thomas’s wrists from the night before. 

“Ow,” Thomas said, smirking at him and pressing his wrist into William’s grip. 

“You truly are a menace to society,” William said mildly, running his finger over the spur of bone at the joint.

“Well then, it’s a good thing there’s you lot to keep me well in hand, yeah?” Thomas said. He paused. The tendons in his arm shifted lightly in William’s grip, but Thomas made no move to get away.

Despite the smudged windowpanes, the morning light seemed very clear, all of a sudden.

“But seriously, someone get me some pig by-products to eat.” 

With that, William resigned himself to not getting very much done today and not minding very much at all.


End file.
